


Seekers, Not Saints

by orphan_account



Series: There (and back again?) [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Finally Gets A Nap, Found Family, Gen, Jedi Culture, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23550871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Back at the Temple, Obi-Wan finally has the chance to prove to everyone that the Council was right to take him back after Medlida/Daan. He's not exactly covered himself in glory since, not with being kidnappedtwice, and not with costing Master Dooku his...He's fine. He's coping.He's just not sure who it will be easier to convince, himself, or his Master.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Cal Kestis, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Cal Kestis
Series: There (and back again?) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624687
Comments: 107
Kudos: 722





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive the lack of updates to anything this last week. This time in lockdown is challenging as hell right now!
> 
> I hope everyone is staying safe and well! Here is a little long-overdue comfort and cuddles for our poor boys! Assuming no further changes, I will be alternating between posting this and updates for Balance/Everything is going to plan. If not every day like before, then hopefully every other day at least. I'll do my best!
> 
> You should also run over to read TheStageManager's wonderful oneshot set in this verse which is full of wonderful h/c goodness! You can find the link in the related works section for Galaxy Eighty-Six.

Cody’s waiting for Obi-Wan outside the Healer’s room, which means Master Cal is likely sparring with Master Windu. There’s always someone waiting for him when he’s finished with the Mind Healer. Usually, it’s Cal, who will walk him back to their apartment to freshen up then wait with him until Cody has finished teaching and can take over his supervision for the rest of the morning. If Master Windu has conflicting responsibilities with the Council, he and Cal will often spar earlier in the day and Cody will either postpone his class or reschedule it entirely just so he can be there when Obi-Wan is done. The strange combination of guilt and gratitude is hard to wrap his head around. On the one hand, he’s mortified, both by the idea that he needs constant supervision and the reality that he can’t stand to be outside of the apartment _without_ someone with him. He feels guilty that his neediness is disrupting the lives of so many people and grateful that Cody and Cal know him well enough to ignore his feeble protests and insist on being there for him.

They’re coddling him and the Council won’t allow it for much longer, but he’ll take what he can get while he can.

As he steps out of the room, Cody lifts his head from the datapad he’s studying and flashes him a smile. There’s something wonderfully warming about the way Cody smiles at him, as though he’s genuinely thrilled to see Obi-Wan every single time. Tucking the datapad into his pocket, Cody holds out a hand. It’s a silent invitation to fall into step beside him, that hand resting on his shoulder, and he thinks Cody needs the stability as much as he does.

“Okay, kid?”

Obi-Wan nods then finds his voice. “Yes thank you.”

For some reason, that makes Cody grin. He squeezes Obi-Wan’s shoulder then lets his arm drop. “You want to skip your assignments and go down to the salle?”

Obi-Wan narrows his eyes and looks up at him suspiciously. That kind of suggestion he has come to expect from his Master, who is so far down the line of ‘experience beats theory’ thinking it occasionally gives Obi-Wan heart palpitations. Cody, Obi-Wan has come to learn, _enjoys_ writing reports. And thinks everyone else either does, or should. He’s a far harsher taskmaster than Cal, who only insists the work is done, or Qui-Gon, who was either a font of knowledge or a dry well of disinterest. Cody reads over his assignments then gives him _notes_. He’s spent more time in the Temple Archives these past few weeks than he has his entire life. And he _enjoys_ learning!

“I’m not letting you off the hook,” Cody chuckles, “but you’ve been working hard and you deserve a break.” Obi-Wan doesn’t let the suspicion drop. Instead, he comes to a stop and crosses his arms, eyebrow raised. “Okay fine,” Cody immediately gives in. “I want to see how many times your Master gets dumped on his ass by Windu.”

Now _that_ Obi-Wan can believe. “Can we?” He doesn’t know who to vocalize what he’s really asking for, but Cody has never struggled to interpret the things he often can’t say.

“I need to stop by the apartment first and drop some things off, then we can head down.”

As far as Obi-Wan can tell the only thing Cody has with him is the datapad, so it’s purely an excuse for him to go back and change.

“Okay,” he says softly, when what he really means is _thank you_.

"No worries, _ad'ika_ ," Cody nudges him with his shoulder and smiles in reassurance. It makes the scar around his eye twist until it looks like a sunburst and Obi-Wan has been itching to ask him how he got it for as long as they've known one another. Before, he was simply too shy. Now, he respects Cody's right to keep those kinds of things private. 

He changes quickly once they are back in the apartment and arrive in the salle in time to see Cal get kicked in the face. Cody, who Obi-Wan has learned has a very strange sense of humor, grins to himself.

“I told him he leaves himself open,” he chuckles, taking a seat up in the viewing circle. Obi-Wan settles beside him and leans forward against the railing to get a better view. His Master is back on his feet already, laughing and keeping a healthy distance from Master Windu, who is shaking his head in what looks to be mild exasperation. Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’s ever seen Windu look anything less than strict and serious before, and he’ll admit it feels strange to see the man relaxing into a friendly sparring session.

Resting his chin on his hands, he pays closer attention to the fight.

There’s a stark difference in style, but surprisingly little between them when it comes to ability. Windu is a powerhouse of grace and strength, his movements refined and precise. Cal is wild, untamed energy and deadly focus, unpolished and unpredictable for it.

It doesn’t take a genius to know that Cal is hiding something about his past. He’s far younger than any of the other knights on record and he lacks the telltale signs of someone who has taken the Trials early because of sheer competence. It’s not that Cal isn’t brilliant because he is, but he’s done nothing to show Obi-Wan that he’s mastered any of the traditional forms.

He said it himself, his training was unorthodox and he was knighted in the field. There are a number of smaller Temples scattered around the galaxy, some in places far less safe than Coruscant. In a life or death situation, Cal fights like no one Obi-Wan has ever seen and he’s certainly got the experience to keep up with Windu. He’s an enigma that has most of the Temple talking, but Obi-Wan thinks he’s figured it out.

The bond between them is strong now, far stronger than anything he’s ever had before, but there are things Cal keeps locked away and places in his mind Obi-Wan will never venture. He doesn’t need to, nor does he have a right to. A training bond doesn’t allow either Master or Padawan unlimited access to the other’s mind, nor should it. But for all that he won’t intrude on his Master’s privacy, Obi-Wan can read the signs. There are scars in Cal’s mind, thick and running deep. He recognizes them because he has his own now, fresh and still bleeding in places.

Cal’s been hurt. Badly. Maybe not even that long ago.

He keeps the memories of his own Master locked away tight, but sometimes, when he’s quiet, Obi-Wan can feel his grief.

Cal is eighteen and, if Obi-Wan is right, his Master is dead. That might even be why he was knighted so young. The fact that he’s as functional, as brilliant as he is... Obi-Wan can’t wrap his head around it. And that he’s Obi-Wan’s Master now, despite everything...

Down in the salle, Cal rolls to one side as Windu comes in fast. The two opponents miss each other by a breath.

“Come on Kestis,” Windu provokes, “stop dancing with me and fight.”

So far, Windu has won most of their fights. It’s to be expected; he’s considered one of the best duelists in the Order, and Cal is so much younger.

But he does have something Windu doesn’t.

Cody, Obi-Wan has realized, is a phenomenal tactician. He can look at a fighter and within a minute he’ll have a strategy to beat them.

He’s also crazy, as established when...

No. No, he’s not thinking about that now.

The fight...

“You think he’ll pull it off this time?” Obi-Wan asks, glancing over at Cody from the corner of his eye.

Cody’s absently running his thumb over the neat orange stitching that circles both wrists of his tunic sleeves. “Depends if he trips over his feet again,” he snorts.

“I’m glad it’s not just me,” Obi-Wan mutters darkly. If anything, his clumsiness seems to have gotten _worse_.

“You’re a teenager,” Cody points out, not taking his eyes off the fight, “falling over yourself is a prerequisite - oof!” They both cringe when Windu cracks Cal sharply on the hip. “Come on, vod,” Cody mutters.

Cal’s down on one knee and he looks winded, but before Windu can move in to finish the match, he pulls out what Obi-Wan considers his signature move. Switching seamlessly from a single blade to a duel-saber is without a doubt the thing that gives Cal his edge. It throws the gates wide open and lets him pick from a near-limitless number of strikes and counterstrikes. Windu knows what to expect, knows how to avoid the most likely maneuvers -

But instead of attacking the way he normally would, Cal flips himself backward, just out of Windu’s reach. It’s a gambit, one that relies on Windu - yes! He moves forward to bridge the distance between himself and Cal, just as Cal springs forward himself. He splits his saber in two, crosses the blades and traps Windu’s between them. A neat twist, and the revered Master is disarmed.

Cody lets out a softly uttered Mando’a cheer that isn’t really suitable for the salle, a proud little smile on his face that makes Obi-Wan feel warm inside. Cody looks at _him_ with that smile a lot, although he’s not really done anything to deserve it.

Down on the salle floor, Windu is clapping Cal on the shoulder, the words he says spoken too softly for them to hear. They turn Cal pink all the way to his ears though, his embarrassment nearly a match for Obi-Wan’s own terrible blush. Cody gets far too much pleasure from their combined misfortune.

The two of them make their way down to the mats and join the combatants as they debrief on the fight.

“The empty fade was good,” Windu says to Cal, “but watch your front guard.”

“Yes, Master,” Cal says, a good-natured grimace quickly melting into a more rueful smile as he rubs the back of his neck. “One day I’m gonna be strong enough to block that advance of yours,” he promises.

“No doubt,” Windu replies, “and when you do I’ll stop going easy on you.”

Cal mutters something Obi-Wan _knows_ is rude and Windu arches a stern eyebrow. Somehow he gets the impression that the Master is teasing and now has to reassess every story he’s ever heard about Mace Windu to account for the fact that he might, just possibly, have a sense of humor. Quin’s never going to believe him.

“Good fight,” Cody greets them while Obi-Wan bows his head. “Most of your dignity is intact this time.”

“Hilarious,” Cal says dryly. “Stop corrupting my padawan with your warped sense of humor.” His eyes find Obi-Wan’s, full of warmth and reassurance.

“Commander,” Windu nods, “Padawan Kenobi.”

“Hello, Master Windu.” Obi-Wan’s already bowed his head but does so again just in case it was missed.

“Are you here to train? I’ve heard good things about your progression in Form IV from Master Drallig.”

Obi-Wan isn’t used to members of the Council taking interest in his studies - at least not in a positive way - and can’t decide if he’s just being polite or not. Master Drallig is a brilliant teacher but he’s never been particularly glowing in his praise, and Master Qui-Gon never had anything good to say. He never had anything really bad to say either, his feedback always direct and even-toned, but by both gages, Obi-Wan can only assume that he’s an average student at best. 

Now would be a good time to prove that he can be a good student. To assure the Council that accepting him back after Melida/Daan wasn’t a mistake. He’s not exactly covered himself in glory with his accomplishments since, what with being kidnapped _twice_ and costing Master Dooku his...

He sucks in a breath, trying to remember all the techniques the Healers have been teaching him.

It’s alright to be afraid. It’s alright to be unsure. It’s alright to be angry.

Feel, then release those emotions into the Force.

That’s the part he’s struggling with. Both, really, in many ways.

Most of the time he doesn’t feel anything other than tired. When he does...

The Force doesn’t really want much to do with him these days.

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan says, trying to sound as calm and steady as possible. He doesn’t miss the startled glance shared between Cal and Cody. If anything it only strengthens his resolve.

Carefully, he unclips his saber from his belt and lets his thumb run over the sleek durasteel. The familiar weight in his hands should be grounding.

A Jedi’s weapon is his life. He’s been training with it most of his life.

He’s not _afraid_ of it.

He’s not.

He's not afraid.

He's not...

Cal’s fingers curl over his own, gently lowering his trembling hand before easing the saber from his grip. He passes it to Cody and then folds his arms around Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

Master Windu is nowhere to be seen. The sweat on Cal’s throat has dried.

How long was he standing there?

Why is he shaking?

“I’m sorry,” Cal whispers, his voice soft and close to Obi-Wan’s ear.

“What did I do?” Obi-Wan asks.

 _His_ face is wet and his voice cracks dryly.

“You didn’t do anything,” Cal promises. He reaches out and a moment later the warmth surrounding Obi-Wan intensifies. Cody’s strong, solid presence at his back means he’s completely wrapped in the comforting embrace.

He doesn’t understand what's happening. He can’t explain why he feels so utterly, hopelessly exhausted.

But there’s no one else around, and if he lets his head rest on Cal’s shoulder, well... no one is going to judge.


	2. Chapter 2

The careful brush of familiar hands against his back draws Obi-Wan from the impromptu nap he’s found himself taking. The evening’s been quiet; Cal tinkering with upgrades for BD-1 and Cody devising lesson plans while Obi-Wan’s done his best to pay attention to his Galactic Law assignment. He’s not meant to fall asleep - he doesn’t even remember doing so - but now Cody’s wrapping an arm around his back, ready to carry him to bed like a crechling. He’s about to stir and protest when he hears Cal’s soft voice and thinks better of it.

He’s not eavesdropping as such. Just... it’s reconnaissance. Cody and Cal are both overprotective and he’s certain they’re hiding things because they think he’s too fragile and weak to handle them. The deception is shameful, but he’s not about to let the moment pass.

“At least he’s sleeping?” Cal whispers. 

“If we’re gonna call it that,” Cody says gruffly, the warmth of his arms surrounding Obi-Wan and lifting him with ease.

Cal is quiet for a moment, then he says, “I’ll stay with him tonight.”

“And then _you_ won’t sleep,” Cody points out. “You took last night, that chair is mine.”

“I’ll wake up anyway,” Cal complains. “I’d rather be there-”

“It’s taking longer and longer to pull him out of them,” Cody says, “a few seconds extra because you’re in a kriffing bed isn’t going to make a difference.”

A cool hand brushes across Obi-Wan’s brow, his Master glowing brightly in the Force. Worry and frustration trickle through the air around them all, shifting the guilt that clings to Obi-Wan like quicksand, stirring it up and thickening it. Cal’s always kind and patient with him to his face, but Obi-Wan knows it's waning. He doesn’t mean it in a cruel way; he just wants Obi-Wan to be better.

_He_ wants to be better. he just doesn’t know how. He’s doing all the things the Healers tell him to. He’s the model patient, unwilling to cause waves or be ungrateful when his rescue cost the Jedi so much.

It’s just...

He doesn’t actually know what it is. He tries to focus but can’t. He tries to sleep and fails. He can’t even use his saber, his favorite thing in the world, without remembering _him._

They tell him he’s brave. They say that no one has done what he’s done, not for a thousand years, words like _Sith-Killer_ following him around from dawn until dusk. It’s something praiseworthy, something to be proud of.

He tries to accept what they say, he does, but he’s living in fear of the moment _someone_ figures it out.

Too angry. That’s the reason Qui-Gon gave him for not wanting him as his Padawan. It’s the reason the Council sent him to the AgriCorps. He’s always been too angry. Too passionate. Too _much_.

And he’s never been angrier than he was in that awful place.

He can’t see the monster behind his closed eyes as a _Sith Lord_ the way everyone else seems to. It’s the start of a slippery slope, justifying what he did because of what the man he killed _was_. Obi-Wan didn’t kill him because he was a Sith, because it was the right thing to do or because the Force told him to.

He killed him because he was trying to kill everyone Obi-Wan has ever loved. He killed him because he spent three weeks _dreaming_ of it.

It wasn’t because he was _angry_. It was because he _hated._

And now that hatred is under his skin. He can never be free of it. Of _them_.

He’s used to pushing things down, trying to be the perfect Jedi, trying to _not_ be Obi-Wan Kenobi, but this is too much. He can’t keep it up.

They’re going to find out _what_ he is, and when they do...

Cal pulls back the sheets on his bed and stands aside while Cody sets him down. They take off his boots but leave him in his soft evening clothes and tuck him in carefully. Then Cody lowers himself into the chair beside the bed, crosses his hands over his chest and leans his head back. It doesn’t look comfortable, but he’s come to learn that Cody can sleep _anywhere_ , and he’s out almost from the second he closes his eyes.

It doesn’t look comfortable, but for all his guilt he’s not ready to face any four walls alone, not even these ones. Locking the doors won’t make much difference to him when it’s his own mind that's the enemy.

He listens for the sounds of Cal moving in the room next door, keeping his eyes closed. Cody’s sleeping and soon Cal will be too, the both of them catching what rest they can before Obi-Wan disturbs them.

It’s not a situation Obi-Wan is satisfied with in the slightest.

The obvious solution then is to _not_ disturb them.

He reaches for the Force, pleading with it to help him, promising it that he’s doing this for _them_ and not because he’s selfish. It listens, but with reluctance, wrapping him up in the brightness of Its embrace and fortifying him against his exhaustion.

Qui-Gon often meditates in lieu of sleep. If it works for him, maybe it will work for Obi-Wan as well.

* * *

“Back again, Obi-Wan?” The Head Archivist, Jocasta Nu, is one of Obi-Wan’s favorite people. If she doesn’t know something then it’s not worth knowing, at least in his experience. She’s kind to him and lets him sit quietly studying all of the obscure subjects Cody points him to, and she absolutely abhors noise and nonsense in her library. It makes it the one place in the Temple where he’s guaranteed some peace and quiet with no one looking at him and whispering. If they do, they’ll get a swift lecture from Madam Nu.

She’s not here today. Instead, Tahl is in her place. She’s lovely and warm with him every time they cross paths and Obi-Wan has been bending over backwards to avoid her. Oh, he’s run into her before of course, and he’s apologized profusely for the way he endangered her life back on Melida/Daan. The problem is that she keeps telling him he’s done nothing wrong, that she understands his choice and doesn’t hold it against him. In many ways, her forgiveness is worse than Qui-Gon’s previous condemnation; and if he believes her then that means his former Master _left_ _him behind_. It’s far easier to think of it as his poor decision than Qui-Gon’s and far less painful to shoulder the blame.

Seeing Tahl makes it that much harder.

But she’s likely going to become Bant’s Master in the coming months and if he doesn’t want to start avoiding his friends as well, he’s going to have to get over it.

Correction: if he’s going to start avoiding his friends more than he already _is_.

“Cody wants me to cross-reference my assignment with the Battle of Dantooine,” he says, trying to summon some positivity. Cody’s maybe a week away from getting into an argument with Obi-Wan’s Galactic History tutor over ancient battle tactics, leaving Obi-Wan caught somewhere in-between mortification and amusement. Cal thinks it’s hilarious. Cal’s probably encouraging it.

“Does he now? He’s a thorough one, your Commander.” There’s no sign of Tahl’s hated seeing-eye droid but she navigates the stacks with perfect ease, leading Obi-Wan to a wall of datafiles that he’s starting to know ridiculously well. “Here’s everything we have on that Sector. Do you need any help searching the archive?”

He turns her down politely. 

Tahl smiles and starts to move back towards another waiting Padawan. Then she hesitates for a moment. “I don’t suppose you’d like to join Bant and me for our evening meal tonight?”

His first thought is an emphatic _no._ This, being here in the Archives where it's safe is almost too much to handle. Cal walked him here and he’ll be back to pick him up in a few hours and how exactly is he supposed to handle being alone in a room _without either_ him or Cody?

Then he thinks of the conversation he listened in to; they’re running themselves ragged looking after him. Maybe they need an evening where they don’t have to worry about him?

And it’s Bant. He’s rejected every offer she’s made to go swimming or take a meal or even study together and she’s never once expressed hurt over his response.

She’s one of his best friends, and more than that, she’s the gentlest soul he’s ever encountered. If he can't trust her not to hurt him then what’s was the point of even leaving that awful place? He might as well have died there like he was supposed to.

“That’d be nice,” he mutters, not managing to meet her eyes. Still, he can feel her happiness in the Force and kicks himself for his reluctance.

“Wonderful! Bant says you like Nu-Delta stew, will that be alright?”

He has no opinion at all about what she feeds him. The best part of a month eating only crumbs of moldy bread has rid him of any real preference; he’s just grateful either way. He often went hungry on Bandomeer, and again on Melida/Daan, but even that failed to prepare him for those three weeks.

“I can bring muja juice?” Qui-Gon taught him proper etiquette when being invited to a meal and he’s sure Cal will approve the request.

“Wonderful!” She seems a little lost for words and he can’t for the life of him think why. He also can’t think of much else to say.

“I should-” he gestures helplessly at the datafiles, then cringes in shame at his thoughtlessness.

Still, she seems to understand what he’s not saying. “Of course! I’ll let Bant know; she can come and get you.” So she’s picked up on the fact that he always has someone with him. He wonders who else has.

When she leaves him to it, Obi-Wan sets himself up at the small table hidden away in one of the alcoves. He means to start his research but instead has to take a minute to understand what exactly he’s just agreed to.

It’s _Bant_. He’s surviving daily meditations with Bruck of all people - although they’ve not shared a single word with each other, always under the watchful eyes of their Masters - so he can absolutely manage one meal with his oldest friend. And Tahl.

Maybe he should ask Cal to come with him? No. No, the whole point of this is to give his Master the evening off. Or most of the point at least.

He’s thirteen for kriff’s sake. He’s a Padawan, and he’s survived far, far worse.

Unbidden, he feels cold fingers running down his spine, a low chuckle of amusement brushing past his ear and a sudden, white-hot memory of pain. He freezes, muscles locked rigid, and doesn’t breathe.

“Hey, you all done?” Cal’s voice comes out of nowhere, startling him so sharply he almost falls out of his chair. Blinking rapidly, his whole chest aching, he raises his head and meets his Master’s kind eyes.

“What?”

Immediately, Cal’s face twists in worry. “I’m sorry I left you so long; things with Master Windu ran over.”

Feeling impossibly stupid, he hears himself say, “Huh?” Cal left him less than fifteen minutes ago. He’s not due to collect him for another two hours.

His Master kneels down so he’s eye level with Obi-Wan, who hasn’t moved from his seat at the desk in... _two hours?_ “You okay?”

“I... yeah. Sorry Master.” He looks helplessly at his assignment; Cody is going to be so disappointed in him. “Master Tahl invited me to eat with her and Bant tonight,” he says. “I said I’d go, but I haven’t done any of-”

“You want to go?” Cal’s eyes brighten hopefully. Obi-Wan nods. “I’ll cover for you with Cody,” he promises. “You deserve a night off.” He gestures at the unfinished work. “Come on, pack up. I’ll help you finish it tomorrow.”

“Don’t you have meetings with Master Yoda tomorrow?”

“Master Yoda can wait,” Cal says with a grin. “You’re my Padawan.” That’ll go down well... “You’re okay though, right? You look kinda dazed.”

Obi-Wan fixes on a smile. “I'm fine, Master.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is _rough_. Cuddles to come, promise!

Dinner with Bant and Tahl is unremarkable. He sits and smiles and makes the appropriate small-talk, and while Tahl doesn’t know him well enough to know anything has changed, Bant does. She’s also so honestly, heartbreakingly _pleased_ that Obi-Wan’s spending any time with her that she doesn’t say anything.

It’s as if he’s forgotten how to be a person. He can go through the motions, tick all the boxes, but there’s a vast disconnect between what his body is doing and the paths his mind seems to want to wander.

The Healers all tell him that he’s safe here in the Temple, that there’s no place here for darkness or evil or harm. He pointedly doesn’t remind them of the way Xanatos broke in and tried to murder Master Yoda. If he reminds them of that he reminds them of the part he played in it and suddenly there’s another thing on the list of issues they’ll want to discuss with him.

Xanatos used to scare him more than any other being in the Galaxy. He certainly hurt him more than anyone ever had before. Now, it’s hard to remember the fear he once felt. Instead, it’s almost amusing to think of how childishly naivé he used to be. Xanatos tried to kill him more than once, tried to kill Qui-Gon even more frequently, and he doesn’t even rank in the top five of people who have left their marks on his mind.

Oddly enough, it’s Inyak who sticks out in his memory. His betrayal had burned and humiliated him, but his cruelty had been a whole different flavor than the Sith’s. He’d played with Obi-Wan like a particularly sadistic child might torment a bug, far more curious to see how - and if - Obi-Wan could defend himself without use of the Force. The few days it had taken them to reach Sojourn had been some of the most terrifying of his life, the sheer pleasure Inyak had taken in tormenting him a wild new level of horrific experience for Obi-Wan to absorb.

And yet if asked to pick - and he is, daily - he’ll gladly choose to recount every awful moment of those days if it means he can keep the door to what followed firmly sealed.

They talked about him this morning. And they talked about the way Cody killed him.

He tells the Healers what he’ll never tell Cody; that he’s convinced Inyak took things as far as he did just so he could taunt Cody with the knowledge, and in doing so secured himself an escape from his servitude to the Sith.

They ask him if he thinks that justifies what he did. It doesn’t, of course it doesn’t, but it makes it understandable. He clings to that thought right up until they ask him if he thinks Cody would’ve killed Inyak regardless. It becomes harder to balance in his head after that.

Jedi get hurt on missions all the time. They face danger every day. Some of them will be captured and tortured, some of them will be killed. It’s the future he faces if he wants to be a knight. That risk. That reality. Before this, he’d’ve said he could face it. That he’d never break. His resolve and his faith and his duty would always supersede anything so trivial as pain.

Before this, he was a fool. And he knew nothing of real suffering.

He can’t even face the reality of how quickly and easily he broke under Inyak’s pointless, gleeful torture, let alone even start to process what happened after.

One of the cornerstones of his apprenticeship is learning how to analyze his failure so that he might become wiser and more experienced for it.

How can he do that when just _thinking_ about it shuts something down in his head?

How can he hope to ever become a knight when he’s terrified of being alone, and a simple meal with a friend leaves him exhausted beyond measure?

Nothing _happens_ while he’s with Bant and Tahl. They don’t talk about anything that hurts. They share silly anecdotes of Temple life, Tahl comes up with creative ways to threaten her droid and Bant gushes about helping teach swimming classes for the crechlings. It’s light and simple and the food is objectively delicious and _nothing happens_ , but by the time Bant leaves him at his apartment he’s so completely dead on his feet that Cal has to help him get ready for bed.

“Did you have fun?” His Master asks, holding the covers back for Obi-Wan to climb under.

He finds a smile and nods. “I think Master Tahl is going to take Bant as her Padawan.”

Cal sits and listens to him recount the evening, smiling softly as Obi-Wan struggles to keep his eyes open. Just as he’s losing the battle with sleep, he hears him say, “I’m proud of you, Padawan,” and holds that warmth to his heart as the world falls away.

Three hours later he wakes up to his room in chaos, blood on the corner of Cody’s mouth, tears in Cal’s eyes, and the inescapable knowledge that there’s _something_ crawling under his skin.

* * *

A week later, no more or less exhausted, Obi-Wan and Cal are summoned to face the Council.

His Master looks terrible. He’s pale and doesn’t look much older than Obi-Wan, but despite all that, he’s _smiling_. Oh, he’s trying not to, but Obi-Wan can feel it.

They’re not... they don’t have another mission, do they?

It’s Master Windu who speaks first. “Padawan Kenobi. What do you understand of the Trials a Padawan learner must undergo in order to achieve knighthood?”

Obi-Wan has to battle the urge to look at Cal. His Master is still and silent beside him, a look of expectation in his eyes that Obi-Wan doesn’t yet understand.

“Masters?” He’s not sure why they’re asking him, but when none of them respond to his confusion, he tentatively continues. “There are five. Trials of Spirit, Courage, Skill, Flesh, and Insight.” And each is a subject of wild speculation among Padawans and Initiates. There’s a degree of secrecy around many of them, and no two Padawan’s trials are the same.

“The Council has reviewed the situation on Sojourn,” Master Windu says, “and are in agreement that your ordeal there shall stand as both your Trial of Courage and Trial of Flesh. In choosing to return to the Sith fortress to rescue the captive children you showed remarkable strength of character and resolve. To then face a Sith in combat - and emerge victorious - despite your tender age is a feat unheard of in the history of this Order. By word of your Master Cal Kestis, Knight Fisto, and by my own eyes, this Council recognizes your successful completion of the Trial of Courage.”

Cal’s hand settles on his shoulder and he realizes that he’s swaying on his feet, his mouth open gormlessly.

“It is a tradition that the Trial of the Flesh is often the most physically demanding,” Master Mundi takes over, his voice kind, “requiring a Padawan overcome great pain, hardship or loss. It is the opinion of the Council that no scenario we are capable of either creating or enacting could measure against the torture inflected upon you during your captivity. We, therefore, agree your suffering is more than sufficient to satisfy the demands of this Trial.”

“Two more Trials you must take,” Master Windu says, “and you still have several years left in your apprenticeship. It is rare we consider Padawan candidates for the Trial of Skill before their eighteenth year and it is unlikely you will be an exception. Likewise, you are still young and have much to learn before undertaking the Trial of Insight.” Windu is matter-of-fact and even as he speaks, and though Obi-Wan understands his logic it still, ridiculously, stings. They’re right of course, he has so much left to learn, he just hopes he still _can._

“The third Trial, undergoing you are,” Master Yoda says seriously. “Trial of Spirit. Feel your pain, we can. Sense the darkness that haunts you. Guide you, we shall. Support you. Encourage you. Not alone, you are. But face the dark you must. Overcome it, you must. Accept what happened to you, let your friends help you, or fall into darkness you shall. Your Trial of Spirit, this is.”

Cal’s hand tightens on his shoulder and Obi-Wan can _feel_ the waves of pride and affection from his Master. He believes wholeheartedly that Obi-Wan can do it.

“Do you have anything you wish to say, Obi-Wan?” Master Ti turns her luminous gaze on him. Obi-Wan can’t meet it, focused instead on a spot on the wall behind Master Yoda. If he deviates, he thinks he’s going to pass out.

“No, Masters,” Obi-Wan manages to choke out, bowing to them. “Thank you, Masters.”

“Speak with your Master further, we must,” Yoda says. “Wait outside for him, you shall.”

Obi-Wan nods and bows again before following the order. The door slides closed, leaving him alone in the antechamber.

Cal’s _right there_. Just behind the door. He’s outside the Jedi High Council Chamber, arguably the safest place in the Temple. He’s fine. He can face a few minutes alone.

Mace Windu is supposedly one of the greatest duelists in the Order, though, and he couldn’t best the Apprentice... is the combined power of the Council enough to stop _him?_

Xanatos nearly succeeded in abducting him from the Temple. If he could do it then they _can_.

The rooms spins until he manages to get his breathing under control.

He’s _safe._ Cal is seconds away. Master Yoda is with him.

He’s overreacting.

‘ _You’ve done so well,’_ that hated voice slips from within the tendrils of his panic and wraps itself around his throat, stealing his breath. ‘ _it hurts, I know. It’s going to get worse, you understand?’_

A whimper bursts from his chest, pained and pathetic.

This is his Trial. One every Jedi must take. He can...

He can’t. He _can’t_.

Cal can’t help him, neither can Cody. They love him, he believes that, and he’s killing them because of it.

And now the Council has proven they can’t help him either.

They think he’s _brave_. They think he’s _strong._

They can’t see what he really is.

_‘But I can.’_

“Leave me alone,” he begs, clapping his hands over his ears as though that might somehow make a difference.

He can’t do this. He needs Cal. He needs Cody. He needs...

But he can’t barge back into the Council chambers, he can’t prove them all wrong only moments after they put their trust in him. And if Cal’s not _here_ then maybe this is a lesson. Part of the Trial. To see if Obi-Wan can cope for five kriffing seconds without falling apart.

Surprise, he _can’t_.

He only has one option left.

He has to find Cody.

Abandoning his pride and dignity on the floor of the Council antechamber, Obi-Wan runs, a soft, insidious laugh ringing in his ears as he flees.


End file.
